


Good Girl

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Forced Feminization, Gen, Humiliation, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Courier may be a woman, but she's still more of a man than Otho.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Girl

Erin watched with her arms crossed, admiration and disappointment alternating on her face. “Make sure to go heavy around the brows; they’re still red from plucking.”

“I am, I am.” the sack-wearing woman with a powerfist- the Courier called her Veronica- assured. “There’s going to be highlighter there, anyway.”

“True...” Erin nodded, raking her blue eyes over him, like an object. Otho’s hair (“Too short,” the Courier had said sadly) was covered by a woman’s bonnet, eyebrows plucked, a string of artificial pearls around his neck, a pink pre-war dress hugging his frame, a sparkling rhinestone belt emphasising his figure, nails painted in pink acrylic, legs shaved, and feet crammed into a pair of high heels too small for him. She smiled appreciatively and fished in her pocket, removing two white gems on little sticks. “Can’t forget the earrings. Do you have a safety pin, or a needle, or something?” she asked her consort.

The woman putting powders on his face stopped, and surveyed her work, switching from the white to one darker than the first. He’d stopped fighting it by then. “Uh, yeah, in my bag.”

“Actually, nevermind; I’ll just use the nail. It’s not _that_ rusty.”

“Hm... Do you think winged eyeliner, or a smoky eye?”

Erin (Lea, Otho remembered, Caesar had named her Lea, and it’s the only time he’s ever questioned the Son of Mars) leaned over the powerfisted woman’s shoulder, squinting at the Legionary. “Do the wings. More girly.”

“Got it.” Veronica complied. She put her hand on his face and tilted his head back, instructing Otho to “close your eyes, and don’t move. I’m not going to poke this charcoal in your eye unless you make me.”

He obeyed. He heard a lighter flick on, then off, and felt the smudgy tip on the charcoal lift from his face, but the steadying hand remain, before another hand grabbed his earlobe and a burning iron- _That must be the nail she was talking about_ \- push through. He would scream, if not for the tape over his mouth. As-is, Otho had nothing to do about it but pull uselessly at the belts around his wrists and ankles holding him to the chair, tears of pain swelling in his eyes. “Aw, the little girl’s crying!” Erin mocked.

“If you cry off any of your makeup, I will literally kill you.” Veronica retorted. He heard the lighter flick open, closed again, kept his eyes pinched shut. Erin grabbed his other earlobe, burned a hole through. He grunted, muted by the tape. She stuck a post through each new gap, and shoved her lighter back in her pocket. Veronica went back to work on his “eyeliner”.

He could feel the Courier’s eyes on him. “What do you think we should do with him when we’re done?”

“Um...” Veronica said, voice distant in concentration. “Parade him around the Fort like Antony with his mutts?”

“Yeah, but Antony sees his dogs as prizes. This is a punishment for a dunderfuck with the audacity to disrespect a lioness for what’s between her legs.” She sat her boot on the edge of his chair, between his legs, and lifted the skirt, snickering as she glanced under. “Like he’s got anything of value.”

Otho growled low in his throat, and Erin pressed the tread of her boot further up his skirt, pressing painfully into the manhood in question. Her growl was deeper. “Keep quiet, like a good little bitch.”

Otho tilted his head back, and silenced. “I say we leave him here for a more manly man to have his way with.” Veronica licked her thumb and swiped at the corner of his eye. “Does that look even?”

Erin leaned over again. “Yes, and yes. Now he just needs a good coat of lipstick on that disrespectful, cocksucking mouth.”

“Ooh, my favourite part!” the other woman gleamed, ripping off the tape. Otho yelped in pain. “And it comes with a free mustache wax!”

“I just have one question. Since the qualifications for manhood around here seem to have dropped,” Lea put a hand on his shoulder and gripped- hard-, foot still poised between his legs, “can I fight in the arena now?”

 


End file.
